


first rule of being a barista

by scheherazade



Category: Tenimyu RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scheherazade/pseuds/scheherazade
Summary: “He’s into you,” Yugo says.





	

“He’s into you,” Yugo says. 

Koudai hums to himself as he measures milk into a cup. “They’re all into me. Which one are you talking about?”

“The one who stares at you like he’s a puppy at the pound and you’re his last hope before they send him off to the farm upstate.” Yugo makes a graphic slicing motion across his neck. The customer waiting for her coffee gives him a startled look. Yugo shoots her a smile. To Koudai, he adds, “You should just put him out of his misery.”

“I don’t believe in killing animals.” Koudai caps the cappucino, glances at the name — or what passes for a name, in Yugo’s terrible hieroglyphic handwriting — and places it on the pick-up counter. “Caramel cappuccino, half sweet, skim, for Chie-sama.”

The girl takes her drink, hurrying more than necessary for a slow Sunday. “Have a nice day,” Yugo calls after her. The bell on the door chimes as it swings shut.

“You need to work on that,” Koudai tells him.

“You need to tone it down. Especially with whassisname. Kenta? Kenya? You wrote ‘Kanye’ on his last drink order, I remember that, but I assume you were joking.”

“Not joking,” Koudai corrects him. “Flirting.”

“So you admit it.”

“It’s a basic skill in our line of work.”

“Sorry, I forgot — did you learn that at barista school or out on a street corner?”

“The one right across from yours.” Koudai leans against the counter. “Really, Yugo. I’m hurt that you don’t remember.”

“I’m known for breaking hearts,” Yugo deadpans. “When I’m not breaking faces.”

Koudai rolls his eyes as Yugo lifts a stack of trays — because they do need to put them away, but also because it shows off his biceps and Yugo knows it.

A clatter of silverware. Koudai glances at the corner table; the same guy’s been there all week, always the same order, always pretending to read a newspaper. Who even reads the newspaper anymore. For that matter, who even prints newspapers anymore.

“You’ve got an admirer of your own,” Koudai says.

“All those years on the street corner really paid off.”

“You don’t even know his name, do you?”

“Riku-san,” Yugo says without missing a beat. “He’s self-employed. Lives downtown. Likes classic films but prefers a good book. Not wild about cats, though can see their charm. And oh, he keeps meaning to order something different but hey, a man likes what he likes. Or so I told him. He was very happy to agree.”

Koudai eyes the man at the corner table. He’s wearing a fedora. Indoors. In the year 2016.

“Don’t tell me you actually slept with him.”

“He’s good with his hands.” Yugo says it like he’s commenting on the weather. “Don’t know if you can say the same for yours.”

“Is that a bet?”

“Will I get the money in time to make rent next week?”

“I’ll be taking your money in time to treat myself to dinner. Watch and learn.” Koudai smoothes his uniform apron, turns a sunny smile to the man who just walked into the coffee shop. “Good morning, Kenya-kun! See anything you like?”

Kenya nearly trips over his own feet. Yugo rolls his eyes, and goes to find a broom. He can check on Riku-san — that’s always good for a couple minutes of hilarious posing and personal details that Yugo never asked for, but is happy enough to file away for later. Things like, _I actually wanted to be an astronaut, but I have flat feet,_  and,  _I’ve been told I’m very good with my hands. With making things, I mean._

The memory makes him snort. As if he’d actually sleep with a customer. Logistics and dubious ethics aside, Yugo has standards. Plain and simple. 

Though, compared to Kenya-kun — and Yugo doesn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that there is some shameless and altogether-too-eager flirting happening at the counter right now — Riku seems all right.

By the time he returns to the counter, Kenya has left. Koudai is examining his nails. Actually.

“Did he write his number on your hand?” Yugo asks.

“No.” Koudai smiles at him. “I wrote mine on his coffee cup.”

“You’re actually taking him to the farm, huh?”

Something pings; an incoming text.

Koudai looks at his phone, and laughs. “Think I can take him a bit farther than that.”  



End file.
